Guys see no sense in going to the doctor unless they think they’re dying.

Actually, guys don’t have much sense when it comes to health – regardless of their age.

When they’re young they think nothing can kill them.

When they’re old they’re too tired to leave the house.

We figure we can beat anything with a nap on the couch and a cold beer.

The wife thinks chicken noodle soup cures all.
I humor her and drink it.

A couple of nights ago the wife made a run to the local plate lunch joint.

Dinner is served at stately Harrington manor.

Or Casa del Harrington if you pressed 1 for Spanish.

The next morning I’m barfing away.

So as she heads to work the wife says, “You going to the doctor?”

“Why would I do that?”

And she’s gone.

Seeing the doc, who’s really a wonderful person, involves a 90 minute round trip and a couple of hours playing games on my iphone in the waiting room.

Since the chairs are no good for napping, beer is not allowed and there’s no place to barf except on the person next to me who probably has some contagious disease, why would I want to go there?

If I did go, here’s what would have happened…

The doc, lovely lady she is, would come flying through the door, grab a quick hug and, “What’s up?”

“I’m running at both ends. Something the wife fed me.”

“Sounds like you got a bug. Here, get this at the pharmacy.”

Quick hug and swoosh – she’s gone in a puff of smoke.

Total time – maybe 30 seconds.

I love her.
I really do.

As much as I can love anyone I see only when life sucks and I’m grumpy.

I get about the same amount of time as I do with the wife between her girlfriend phone calls and cruising Facebook.

At least the wife feeds me.
Even if I can keep it down for just a little while.